


stuck in the sunshine

by justtothesea



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, M/M, Soulmates, death but in a cheerful way, good place au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-22 20:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17669603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtothesea/pseuds/justtothesea
Summary: Welcome! This is a Good Place AU, and everything is fine! (Contains some spoilers and hints from the show from s1 to s3)





	1. Chapter 1

Pete opens his eyes and finds himself in a waiting room. The walls are a pastel yellow, and the sun shines warmly through the window over his shoulder.

On the wall across from him, there's a white banner that reads in big blue letters: _Welcome! Everything is fine._ Pete suddenly feels a wave of tranquility settle into his bones like never before. He smiles.

“Peter?” A man - young, tall and far, _far _too pretty - pokes his head out of a door that Pete hadn’t even noticed was there. “Please, come in,” the pretty brunette man says with a grin, and leads Pete into his office.__

 

 

*

“You, Peter Wentz, are dead.”

“Okay, mildly freaked out,” Pete says, scratching his chin. “I should be more freaked out... right? Why am I not more freaked out? Also, please call me Pete.”

“Because you’re at peace now, Pete,” the man, whose name tag says William, explains kindly, folding his hands over his desk. “You are in the next phase of your existence. It’s a _whole_ different state of being,” he pauses for a moment, adjusting his tie. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Yep,” Pete breathes. He can’t even remember how he died, which might not be the most _awful_ thing, all things considered. “Um, so, can I just ask… where am I? Like, is there a heaven or hell?” A horrifying thought crosses his mind. “Was Scientology right all along?”

“Oh, goodness no,” William says immediately, grimacing, “no, _no_. Every religion got a little bit right, you know, minus Scientology. I’d say everyone got about five percent right, but it’s not the heaven or hell you were raised on.”

Pete blinks, processing this. “So…”

“Let’s just say, that in the afterlife, there is a Good Place, and there’s a _Bad_ Place,” William affirms, then proceeds to start filing away a stack of papers on his desk that Pete could have sworn weren’t there a second ago. It goes on for so long that it seems William's forgotten Pete's even there.

“...Dude?”

“Oh!” William says, looking genuinely surprised to find Pete still sitting across from him. “Well, you’re in the Good Place, of course!”

*

William asks Pete to follow him out of the building,. Beyond the doors is a bright, sunny - well - _neighbourhood_.

Vibrant trees adorned with ripe fruit. Clean, bright sidewalks and vividly green grass. Pete sees wide streets with houses on them of varying shapes and colours. It’s all so beautiful and serene, like something straight out of a Pixar movie. And there’s a faint smell of chocolate brownies in the air - just like the ones his mother made when he was little, the warm, doughy scent filling the air.

“The Good Place is very selective, Pete,” William tells him as they walk. “People, living people, take so much for granted. Years and years fighting wars and disagreeing with each other for petty reasons. Some humans will disregard the most _fundamental_ thing, the most obvious, and simple thing - the _only_ thing that really matters.”

Pete flounders. “...Yeah, which would be…”

“Kindness,” William says with a smile. “Pure, inherent kindness. It's all that matters, all that ever has. That's why you're here Pete. You lived a life full of good, kind deeds. You are of the select few chosen to reside here in the Good Place.”

“Fork me, that is… a _lot_ ,” Pete frowns. “Hey, why did I say _fork_ instead of _fork_? Wait, what the fork?!”

“Yes, about that,” William laughs, walking ahead with his arms folded behind his back, “seeing as this is the Good Place, cursing is absolutely impossible here.”

“No cursing?” Pete stops walking, suddenly forlorn. “Like… _never_?”

“Well, some neighborhoods allow it but I just find it so… unnecessary,” William says, scrunching his nose. “Same with phones, there's just no real need for them here.”

An involuntary gasping, choking sound emits from somewhere deep in Pete's throat. He may already be dead, but he definitely feels some smaller, deeper part of him die on the inside.

*

The Good Place is a neighborhood. “One of _infinite_ neighbourhoods,” William explains proudly, “all overseen by an angel - or _architect_ , and their very own… oh darn, I forgot to introduce you, didn't I? Brendon!”

Before Pete can react, a sudden, cheerful voice comes from behind him.

“Hello!”

“What the--?” Pete spins around so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

“I’m Brendon, how can I help you?” A young, not _un_ attractive guy wearing a button down shirt, a vest, and an - oh god, an _ascot_ , is standing about three inches away from Pete’s face. Pete backs away slowly.

William laughs. “Pete, this is Brendon,” he says, and Brendon positively _beams_ at him at this. Literally, it’s like the flash on a smartphone. _God_ , Pete misses his phone.

“Every neighbourhood has a Brendon, think of him as an informational assistant, available to everyone at any time,” William goes on with a proud smile, “Brendon is an essential part to making any Good Place a _Great_ Place.”

“Thank you, William!” Brendon bounces on his heel, then turns his frozen smile onto Pete. Pete doesn’t think he’s even blinked yet. It’s mildly unnerving.

“You’re… not a person?”

“Nope! Though I understand that you were missing your phone, Pete. Luckily for you, I have access to infinite knowledge about infinite everything!” Brendon places his hands on his hips. “Isn’t that _fun_?”

Pete is way out of his depths here. “So, what, you’re some kind of… uh, robot?”

“Not a robot,” Brendon shakes his head. “Honestly, there’s no real word or explanation that could possibly encompass all that I am and know,” he says gravely, then, like the flick of a switch, he breaks into another broad smile. “I’m an enigma!”

Pete wholeheartedly agrees.

*

He finds out that his personal Good Place home - which happens to be built out of colourful legos - is tailored to all his earthly desires. It has a modern bedroom with a king-sized bunk bed - and a urinal beside the window, a cosy scandinavian-inspired kitchenette… with a urinal in the corner. There's also a stylish, minimal living room, and a study in a soundproof basement with a recording studio built in. Both complete with, of course, a urinal.

The house also has a healthy smattering of clown paintings.

“Yep, you just love clowns,” William remarks with an eyebrow raised, surveying the room. “Does it have to do with both your parents working in the circus?”

“It was a pretty _colourful_ childhood,” Pete explains, nodding.

“You also have a healthy obsession with urinals, I see,” William chuckles.

“Oh absolutely, but that's just practical,” Pete says, gesturing around him. “I mean, you never know when you’ll need to go, right?”

William laughs heartily, throwing his head back. “Well I wouldn’t know, angels don’t do that sort of thing, but I’ve heard all about how satisfying it can be!”

There’s a large, pink couch in the center of the room, and William stand before it, waving his hand and making a wide virtual screen appear.

“Think of this as the television network of your life, Pete,” he says. “You can watch any and every moment of your life on it, for instance.” William points to a file in the corner that opens up a video. It’s from Pete’s point of view, so you can only see his hands. He’s receiving a nobel peace prize for his humanitarian work, William flicks to another, showing Pete hosting a fundraising concert with various musical artists.

“ _And now, here’s one of my dearest friends, Stevie Wonder!_ ” Pete on the screen shouts, and the crowd goes wild.

“Wow, now that’s a treasured memory, huh?” William asks, and the video skips to another memory, of Pete bringing homeless people a truckload of sandwiches. “You helped so many people.”

Pete sighs, feeling overwhelmed, and William pats him on the back. The television plays on in silence.

He takes another look around at his kitchen, bedroom, and living room; there are no walls besides the bathroom so it’s all just an open space that he can glance over - when a playful knock sounds from the front door.

William’s eyebrows raise as he turns around, adjusting his tie. “Ah, Patrick!” He calls out. “Come on in!”

If Pete were alive, he thinks this would be the moment that his heart stops beating. The most absurdly cute man wearing glasses and a denim jacket and - is that a _fedora_? - has just walked into Pete’s new home. He’s pale, and blond, and rosy-cheeked, and smiling sheepishly at Pete as he crosses the room to stand beside William.

Pete has half a mind to ask if this was how he died on earth.

“Uh, hi… you must be Peter?” The man asks, and Pete is already so completely charmed. Dead or not, he _definitely_ feels his heart skip a beat.

“Pete, yeah,” Pete says, and tries to ignore how breathless he sounds. "That's me."

“I’m Patrick Stump.” Patrick looks anxiously between Pete and William before straightening up and setting his eyes on Pete with a cautious smile. “I think… I mean, yeah, I’m your soulmate.”

Pete feels his chest swell for a moment, and breathes out a small, “Awesome,” then, clearing his throat, he says, “um, bring it in, man!”

William clasps his hands together as they hug. Pete is overcome with a sense of rightness when they touch. He soon forgets himself in the embrace and just closes his eyes. Everything about Patrick is warm and soft and perfect. So, so very perfect.

*

William leaves them alone to go tend to other people arriving at the Good Place. Pete barely notices him leaving, too busy grinning stupidly at his soulmate.

They sit down on Pete’s gigantic sofa next to each other. Patrick is wringing his hands and smiling.

“I was so excited when William told me you were a music producer on earth,” Patrick tells him, looking down at his hands, “I mean, I _love_ music. Like, _really_ love. I was almost surprised to find my soulmate was a person and not, like, an Elvis Costello record.”

“I would say I was more a part of the entertainment industry, actually,” Pete says, the screen still playing all of his achievements catches his eye. He smiles, “But I do I love music too, so, so much. I’m psyched that we have that in common!”

Patrick grins. “Me too!”

Pete sighs adoringly. Part of him wishes that they could’ve met on earth, he wonders if they would’ve clicked as well when they were alive. Patrick starts talking about his top five Prince songs, and Pete knows for certain that they would have.

*

Patrick makes to leave before it gets dark. Pete didn't even realise how long they've been talking.

“I mean, time doesn't really exist here,” Patrick says with a shrug. “But William says he wants it to feel authentically earth-like, well all the good parts anyway,” he laughs. It's such a pretty laugh. Pete wants to bottle his laugh and keep it in a jar beside his bed. “Just wait till the welcome party tomorrow.”

“Drunk with no pesky hangovers?”

Patrick laughs. “It truly is paradise.”

“Are you sure you have to go soon?” Pete taps Patrick's knee with his hand.

“Well we have eternity to get to know each other,” Patrick says playfully, blushing and biting his lip, “Gotta leave _some_ mystery, Pete Wentz.”

“Patrick Stump,” Pete says, “you have no idea.”

As Pete walks him to the door, Patrick suddenly stops, nervously tugging on his hat. “I just want to say something,” he says quickly, “Look, I… the things is, I worked myself crazy on earth - thinking if I just dedicated myself to my music that, you know, everything else would just fall into place. Relationships, financial stability, happiness.” Tentatively, he takes Pete’s hand in his own. “And now I’m here, and I have _you_ , and you… you’re, ah, _perfect_ ,” he says with a bashfully small laugh, “and _my_ soulmate and I can just… share everything with you. And you’ll get it, y’know? That’s… it’s just _incredible_.”

 _Oh no_ , he’s blushing and adorable and so earnest, Pete just wants to wrap him up and tell him that he’ll keep him _forever_.

“What I mean is,” Patrick goes on, biting his lip again, “I'm so happy and excited for what's to come. And I'm glad I finally got to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Pete says dumbly in response. “Me too, totally,” he adds, trying for cool, and then, because there’s a thought wheedling away at the back of his mind, he asks, “Hey, Patrick?”

Patrick hums in reply, staring at Pete so sweetly.

“As my soulmate, you’ll stand by me through whatever, right?” Pete asks, and feels like he’s reciting vows saying this while holding Patrick’s hand. He runs his thumb over Patrick’s knuckles because why the heck not. “No matter what, thick and thin, you’d never, ever betray me for anything, all that good stuff?”

“Pete,” Patrick says, surprised, and takes a step closer, lets Pete hold both his hands in his. “I swear, no matter what happens, I’m with you through all of it, and I will never betray you,” he says earnestly, looking Pete in the eyes. “Not _ever_.”

“Amazing,” Pete says, feeling light-headed. “You are so forking _amazing_ , Patrick Stump. And I’m so glad you said all that because,” Pete takes a deep breath, and points to the tv, “those aren’t my memories, I wasn’t a producer of _anything_ except sleazy headline scandals - I don’t _hate_ the idea of urinals everywhere but it wouldn't be a personal choice - and I think clowns are creepy as _fork_ , dude.”

Patrick’s eyes widen behind his glasses.

Finally, taking another deep breath, Pete says, “There’s been a _big_ forking mistake."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meant to update so much sooner I'm sorry, but I hit a block. third chapter won't take as long since it's closer to done

Pete snaps his fingers in front of Patrick’s face a couple more times. The poor guy hasn’t moved or said anything for far too long now. He hyperventilated for a solid ten minutes, and in that time Pete ran around the house looking for his phone to call for help before remembering there are _no phones in heaven._

At least Patrick's calmed down, sort of; now he's just sitting frozen in the middle of Pete's sofa, staring at nothing. Pete thinks he may have broken him.

“Patrick? Hey c’mon, come back to me...” he bites the side of his nail anxiously, then gets an idea. “Uh yo, man-shaped Siri? Buh- it was B-something… Brr-ruh… _Brian_. Bronson… Brandon? Oh, Brendon!”

“How can I help?” Brendon says, appearing behind him.

“Holy shirt, okay there you are.” Pete winces at the censored cursing, he’ll never get used to it. “Um, hey, how good are you at keeping secrets? Of the can't-even-tell-William variety?”

“Oh I’m great at discretion!” Brendon shouts happily, then pulls out a virtual screen from his hands. “Now what kind of porn would you like to watch--?”

“No!” Pete yells, then, thinking better of it adds, “But, you know, good to know - I… look, the thing is…” Pete glances at Patrick, still sitting frozen on the couch. He sighs. “I don’t think I’m meant to be _here_... in the Good Place, and I think I broke my soulmate?” He feels the blood drain from his face as an awful thought crosses his mind. “Fork, he _is_ my soulmate, right? _Right_? Like, just because I’m --”

“Correct,” Brendon interrupts him kindly, “his soul was perfectly matched to yours prior to your Good Place evaluation and placement - there are millions of good and bad matchups!”

Pete lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s...”

“I’ll just tell William, and we can -”

“ _No!”_ Pete yells again, and notices that Patrick has started blinking, which is a good sign, right? “ _Total_ discretion, ok? Just… can you get me, like, some smelling salts or something?”

“Here you go!” Brendon says immediately, and three packets of smelling salts appear in his outstretched hand.

“Oh.” Pete’s eyebrows raise. “Wow, thanks.”

Brendon preens.

“I…” Patrick says at last, and Pete hurriedly goes to crouch down in front of him.

“Hey there,” Pete says softly, offering up one of the packets. “You coming back to me?”

“I am…” Patrick continues, and he's starting to look a little more lucid, his eyes narrowing, “I… I… am going… to _kill_ …”

“Oookay! Brendon, I think you can get outta here,” Pete says in a rush. “Thanks for all your help, man.”

“No problem, just give me a holler whenever you need anything!” Brendon smiles. “I am literally _always_ available!”

*

“Okay I need to get this straight,” Patrick starts, frowning “ _Who_ are you?”

“Pete Wentz, professional online drama queen, and socialite extraordinaire,” Pete answers, sticking out his hand for Patrick to shake. “My dad’s a politician, so I have a lot of hangups.”

“Socialite?” Patrick repeats quietly to himself.

Pete drops his hand back down into his lap. “I uh, I told you I was more involved in the entertainment industry...”

“So… that,” Patrick points to the screen where _“Pete”_ is on a beach, cleaning up a baby seal. “That’s not you?”

“Nope, and if you look a little closer you can totally tell,” Pete tells him, “See? My POV wouldn’t be _that_ high up. I’m a little dude.”

“Holy smokes,” Patrick breathes, and Pete wants to strangle something it’s too adorable.

“You can say _that_ again,” Pete says, mildly hoping.

“So then, when you were alive,” Patrick starts slowly, “what, uh, what did you do?”

“ _UHM_.” Pete tries to think of what to tell him first. “Well, I threw some rad parties,” then at Patrick’s look he quickly adds, “some of them were charity events! I ran a label, uh, sorta. And a clothing company!… Sorta. I was _awesome_ at pranks, like  _Jackass_ level, you've seen Jackass right?" At Patrick's slow nod, Pete barrells on, "I also did youtube for a while, sometimes with musicians and celebs - hey, you know Jake Paul?”

Patrick’s face falls, pale and blank, and Pete backtracks. “...‘Cause I don’t! Nope, not at all, uh, he seems like a shitty dude…?”

“Okay,” Patrick says, obviously freaking out. “ _Okay_ , so you were _that_ kind of guy -- that’s, y’know I can’t fault you for that." He takes off his hat and wrings it in his hands. "I mean, it was your life. You lived it your way and had fun, right?”

Pete nods emphatically, and Patrick lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing at his forehead before slipping his hat back on. Pete wishes he'd keep it off.

“But, we _are_ soulmates, right? I mean, you’re, _you're_ …” Patrick gestures to Pete’s everything, and Pete just nods slowly like he understands.

“According to the T-1000," he explains, "we were matched way before this particular mixup.”

Patrick laughs, still looking panicked. “You mean Brendon, the least threatening terminator ever?”

“Forkable Alexa, yeah,” Pete says, bumping Patrick with his elbow. “Gotta admit, right? Dat ash. Ugh, I mean _ash_. I _mean!_ Butt? Cool, I can still say butt.”

Patrick makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh my...” he cries into his fingers. “This is… this can't be happening, it just... it _can't_.”

“Stay with me, Pattycakes,” Pete tells him, “I still have some smelling salts if you need 'em.”

“What are we gonna do? What happens? Oh God, we have to tell William, don’t we? -- I,” Patrick pauses in his anxious rambling to give Pete a mild glare. “‘ _Pattycakes_ ’?”

“Look, whatever happens,” Pete starts, hesitating a moment before trying to take Patrick’s hand, he smiles hard when Patrick lets him, gripping tight. “We’ll figure it out, ‘cause we’re in this together. _Soulmates_ , remember?”

Patrick looks down at their hands, he's still breathing a little harshly as he bites his lower lip and asks in a soft voice, “You really love music?”

“Dude,” Pete grins, tearing his gaze away from Patrick's mouth to lower his head and meet his eyes. “ _I’m_ still surprised that my soulmate wasn’t a Guns N’ Roses record.”

Patrick snorts, looking up at him in a way that almost feels familiar. Pete is so charmed. “Use Your Illusion I or II?” Patrick asks coyly, looking much less pale.

“Pfft, no brainer,” Pete huffs, moving to sit beside Patrick with their hands still clasped together. “Appetite for Destruction.”

Patrick groans and smacks Pete with a pillow that has a giant sad clown face on it.

*

Once Patrick leaves, reassured over and over that they are not, in fact, _horribly, horribly doomed_ \- Pete tries to convince himself of the same.

It's not _so_ bad, really. Pete just needs to trick all the Good people and other-beings around him that he belongs here, in the Good Place, and he also has to _not_ seriously break anything or any _one, especially_ his soulmate. He might even finally learn how that whole common decency thing works. Piece of cake.

Yeah no, he's totally royally forked in the ash.

Pete sighs the longest sigh of his life, and decides to take a relaxing walk around his new (hopefully permanent) neighbourhood. Though, he thinks it’s more akin to a little village - a village with an _abundance_ of yogurt places with odd names, like, ‘ _Best Yogurt of your Afterlife_ ’, ‘ _Highway to the Yogurt-Zone_ ’, and ‘ _Yogurt? Yogurt._ ’.

There are also some very niche, and specifically named stores. ‘ _The Small Adorable Animal Depot_ ’ and ‘ _Warm Laundry Expo_ ’ really call to Pete’s soul.

But he decides on ‘ _Cats That Actually Like You_ ’, and hurriedly makes his way over because nothing says validation like a small, hateful fluffball accepting you for _you_ \- when he catches a familiar smell by the side of the building, and happens across a curly haired guy smoking weed by the bushes.

Pete smirks, unable to help himself as he sneaks up close behind the person and affects his best cop voice as he yells, “That grass had better be medicinal, son!”

The guy jumps and whirls around, shouting, “Wha-- The robot got it for me!”

“Dude, I was just --” Pete stops, the smile freezing on his face as his eyes widen. “ _Joe_?”

“Oh wow, Pete? Hey!” Joe smiles at him and wraps him into a quick, one-armed hug. “S’good to see you, buddy! For the record, weed's legal in heaven so...”

“What're you…?” Pete stops, not wanting to doubt Joe’s apparent Good points, since he hasn’t really kept up with the guy enough to judge. “Uh, it's good to see you, dude! Nice to actually know someone here,” he says cheerily instead.

Joe was a cool kid when Pete knew him back in the scene, always up for getting into trouble and getting drunk with Pete and the guys on the weekends. He played guitar and Pete was pretty sure the kid had something special, but they never got to jam together. He was genuinely bummed when Joe decided to get all serious about school and went to college out of state.

“Oh yeah, same,” Joe smiles easily, leaning against the wall, he’s older but looks the same, if a bit taller. “But… I’ve gotta be honest, man, I’m a little surprised,” he adds sheepishly.

“Oh uh, why’s that?” Pete says, trying to sound chill, though he is very much _not_ chill.

Joe claps him on the shoulder, still with that glazed look in his eye. The dude always loved his weed. “No offense or anything, but you didn’t seem to be going the Good Place route in life, is all.”

“Well. I just... really turned things around in the end, I guess,” Pete offers, his jaw hurts from smiling, and he moves away from Joe’s arm. “Had to happen some time, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Joe says with a shrug, and Pete tries really hard to not read into it, “Hey, have you met your soulmate yet?”

“Oh yeah,” Pete answers, thankful for the change in topic, “Yeah, he’s perfect, you?”

Joe laughs, fitting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, lucky break, man. I got Andy forkin’ Hurley.”

“ _Hurley_?” Pete’s heart drops into his stomach. Lying to Joe is one thing, he barely knows the guy, but Pete and Andy go way back. Andy _knows_ him.

“Yep! We're officially soul-bros for life! Or after life. It's not weird.”

“Wow,” Pete laughs awkwardly. “That’s… what're the odds we'd all die the same year, huh?”

“Nah,” Joe says with an easy smile. “We all died at different times, I’m pretty sure. Like Hurley lived to his _nineties_ , man. Time here isn't really _linear_ , y'know?”

“Huh?”

“Like,” Joe frowns, “the Brendon guy said it's all squiggly and big.” Joe draws an odd shape in the air, giggling to himself. “Kinda shaped like a big ol’ duck, you get me?”

Pete really doesn't, but he nods just the same. “Totally.”

Joe smiles at him and pats him on the shoulder, “Anyway, see you and your soulmate at the party, right?”

“Yeah,” Pete says faintly, still processing it all, then, “ _party?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3  
> [tumblr](https://justtothesea.tumblr.com) | [updated peterick recs link](https://sites.google.com/site/petericklist/recs) :)


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